Sweet Sorrow
by Totskumi
Summary: Where is the light in the darkness? Can a twisted soul find what once was and is now lost or will he forever be lost to the blackness?
1. Prologue To kill A Lamb

Hiya, this is my first fan fic. I've attempted to right several before, but I never like how they turn out and wind up dumping them. However, I think I can stick with this one. Please read and Review (feedback is very much appreciated by me and my muse).

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Weiss Kreuz or any of this characters. They belong to Koyasu Takehito (who play's Aya by the way) and an assortment of other people I don't. So, now that we've taken care of that, on with the Fic!!!

Dark as Onyx,

White as snow,

Dead as night,

Inward testament to his soul;

A Breath of air,

A streak of light,

Quite yearning,

The Devil's delight;

Thoughtless frenzy,

Dancing flame,

Deadly menace,

That can never be tamed;

Heart of a demon,

Soul of a child,

Lost little lamb,

Meek and mild...

She walked briskly, with long, heavy strides, never wavering from her sacred destination. No thought crossed her mind except the almost subconscious shout that continued to driver her on, saying "run if you want to live;" that voice - cold and emotionless - playing over, and over, and over again in her mind.

Her labored breath wheezed out in thick clouds of barely visible gasps into the cold night air. She was oblivious to the cold sweat streaking down her face as she continued to flee from her pursuer, who's footsteps she could vaguely decipher behind her from the rapid pounding of the blood through her own brain.

She suddenly fell forward and landed on her stomach; clawing at the ground in an attempt to lift herself and at last succeeded in what seemed like an eternity. She swaggered to her feet, hardly able to stand, but too afraid to stop. "Almost there," her own voice rang out in her head. She was almost out of that hell of a trailer park; full of little more than vacant buildings, long ago boarded up and broken streetlights that no longer cast a glow on the empty streets. She new that they was a police station just down the road and if she could only reach it she might be able to get some help...

"Why did I have to come this way?" she whispered in her mind. "Why didn't I go with Tawny and Mary like I always do? Now I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die!!!" she screamed in her head as she took one last, desperate, step and reeled forward in a state of dizzied frenzy. The lights were just ahead, if only she could get to her feet again. She reached out in front of her and saw through blurred eyes, instead of her right hand gripping for salvation, in its place only the bloody stump of a limb and she began to cry to herself for she had not even the strength left to scream for help as a tall shadow came up behind and blotted out all hope.

"Murderers hurt God," Farfarello murmured to himself as he stood over the young girl. How old was she - sixteen, seventeen - who cared? She would be free from this miserable world soon in any event. The Berserker smiled to himself as he remembered the terror in her face when he had come up behind the lone figure as she came out of an alleyway. She had screamed when he grabbed her arm and had fought to get free. But it was no use. She was as good as dead.

She had punched and kicked at him but to no avail. He had simply smiled and took out his knife and with his free hand; spinning her around, he arched the knife against her throat. Its sharp, daggered edge delving ever so slightly into the smooth, cream colored skin, tainting it crimson. He had meant to kill her then, but had at the last moment decided that he would give her a sporting chance. So he slid the knife down to her right hand that he held behind her back and in one fluid motion lopped it off.

He was sure she hadn't felt anything though (not at the moment anyways), what with the way she did nothing but slowly turn around and look at her bloody stump and what was once her right hand as it lay there on the ground. She had the funniest look on her face, and he had taken much delight as she had begun to scream and cry out to God.

"He wont save you now," spouted out Farfarello, voice lased with venom. "Run if you want to live," Farfarello warned; knives poised in position and she most readily obeyed.

The though vaguely crossed his mind as to why such a pretty young girl would be out alone in a place like this at this time of night, but the answer really didn't matter to him. All that mattered to him was that he used this opportunity to hurt God. Yes, that was his purpose in life, his place in the world - the silent killer, Hell's mercenary, a living demon. He would extract his revenge on the world and its lord one way or another.

And with that thought he looked down at the crippled lamb beneath him. She was shaking now, perhaps out of fear, or was it rage? But again, the answer was of no consequence to him. Yellow eyes danced over the blood-stained angel that's utter state of ruin would have brought some sort of remorse to any lesser villain's heart. But not him - no, not Farfarello; for he delighted in such things.

"Kill me now... and get it... over with," came the coked voice of the pitiful creature beneath him. "Please... just do it..." she continued to plead.

"Very well," was his only response as he pulled out his knife and plunged it deeply into the back of the girl's head. She gasped once - a low sort of sad gurgle, muffled by the blood that had already began seeping into her lungs - and her eyes went wide. Then she was motionless as the eternally frost of death swept over her and a single tear fell to the blood-drenched pavement that none boor witness to except for God, the Devil, and Farfarello.

NOTES: Ok, so what do you think? Like? Dislike? Want me to stop posting things up because I shame the field of writing with my degenerate slop? Let me know. I'll try to get the next chapter up soon, this was really only an introduction. Much more still to come. (Oh, and buy the way, it takes place right after Weiss Kreuz, before Gluhen - I'm ignoring what happened in the drama CDs by the way coughstupid Sallycoughcough ). If you have any suggestion be sure to let me know - I'm always open to constructive criticism (Heck, I'll take flames if that's all you got). Oh, and forgive any spelling errors, I put it through spell check but it doesn't always pick up everything. Thank you for reading and reviewing, please check back soon for updates...


	2. And The Rain Fell

Okies, I've updated like I said I would. Please continue to send your reviews (they really help).

DISCLAIMER: Again, I do not own Weiss Kreuz or the characters (I don't own anything - seriously, this computer isn't even mine; its my dad's).

Child of splendor,

Heaven set cherub,

Why do you cry?

Why do you frown?

The angels are weeping,

For your soul my love,

The heavenly host,

They seek out your heart,

Return to them lover,

Return to them friend,

Waste not immortality,

To contrive to this end.

The rain poured from heaven as if in morning. Perhaps it was, thought Tawny. Elizabeth, her best friend, had been dead over a week now. Her body had been found on the west side of town, in the abandoned trainer park, three miles away from her childhood nationhood. Her hand had been cut off and found a few blocks away. But they said she wasn't lucky enough to have died just then. It looked like she tried to escape, but had meet a fatal end none the less with a quick blow to the head from a long, sharp knife.

"If only we would have made her come with us," whispered Tawny to herself and she fought back tears. The two of them and Mary were coming home from a party around 12:15 AM. Elizabeth was already 15 minutes past her curfew and wanted to get home before her parents had a fit. So the girls agreed to let Elizabeth take the short cut through the trailer park, even though both Tawny and Mary had protested. And now, because they had let her go alone she was dead.

"Dead, and its all my fought," Tawny whispered , barely able to hold back the tears. It had been raining for the past week. It had stated the night Elizabeth never came home. The night her parents called everywhere looking for her. The night Everyone had searched for hours. The night Tawny had been the first to see the tattered remains of what was once her best friend. She had cried al1 night. And it had rained ever since then.

It was as if heaven was somehow trying to comfort her by letting her know that Elizabeth would be missed by everyone; that she had not been overlooked by her maker.

The rain had always soothed Tawny anyways. It was like when it rained all her problems washed away. She could just stair out her windows for hours sometimes watching the rain fall. Each little droplet containing her hearts greatest sorrows. All the countless pieces hit the ground, hundreds at a time, then they wash away, never to be seen again - usually down the gutter.

But not today, today her troubles couldn't just be washed away so easily. Today her best friend was dead. And today it was _her_ fault; or so she thought.

"Elizabeth, I'm sorry, I'm sorry I let you down..." Tawny cried into the stuffed bear Elizabeth had given her for her last birthday. _Happy 16th birthday Tawn-Tawn_, the card on her desk read. _Tawn-Tawn_, that was what Elizabeth used to call her. She really hated it, that's why only Elizabeth could get away with calling her it. Only Elizabeth new all her secrets, all her crushes, and the most intimate details of her life; and now... and now she was gone.

"The killer of 16 year old, Elizabeth Hollins is still at large. Her body was found last week outside of a trailer park on the north side of town. There are currently no confirmed suspects, but police speculate that her murder has some connection to the last seven murders that have occurred in that area within the last two months. In other news..." Farfarello turned off the television. "Only seven," he said out loud, "there were at least ten that I can remember."

"That many?" teased Schuldich. "My, my, you have been busy."

"Murderers hurt God," Farfarello mumbled to himself. He seemed rather preoccupied with cleaning his blade.

"He must be in excruciating pain by now then," Schuldich continued to tease. Getting no response out of the Berserker so he changed the subject, "It's been raining a lot lately."

"On and off since last week," observed Nagi as he walked by, books in arms, apparently on his way upstairs to start on homework.

"Errr," Schuldich groaned as he stretched and got off the couch, carefully stepping over Farfarello who was sitting on the floor in front of him, oblivious to the world around him - perfectly content on cleaning his knives. "I'm going out." he finally announced to no one in particular as he put on a baseball cap and headed out the door.

Nagi, following Schuldich's example, speaking to the air (or Farfarello, but he'd be more likely to get a response from the air in either event) as he announced, "I'll be doing my homework upstairs in my room if anyone needs me," as he began to trot up the steps books still in arm.

Farfarello made no response that he had heard or cared to know. He continued to shine his knives with the utmost of intensity. He couldn't care less what those two did. What did it matter to him? His only concern was when he could next hurt God. The only reason he was in Swartz was because they enabled him to realize this goal. He could kill them all had he truly wanted, but that would serve no real purpose. They were not dear to God like those sweet children that he had so recently slaughtered. Poor little lambs. They knew not that their lord had deceived them. Had he loved them he would have saved them, but because he did not love them, he did not save them. He loved no one. All that he said was a lie, and Farfarello hated liars. Above all Farfarello hated liars, for they were the true evils of the earth and God was their master, their lord. He was the one who had to be punished, for he was the one that was responsible for all the suffering, he was the one who allowed that to happen.

Schwartz had been in Miami for about three month now and where all rather restless. They were there as a "favor" for one of Crawford's many "friends;" in other worlds they were there to play body guard for some rich idiot who got himself into trouble by cheating some investors out of their fair share and was now afraid to go outside. But so far (much to Farfarello's dismay) nothing big had happened. Basically, Crawford just kept an eye on their client and everyone else enjoyed city life.

Nagi was enrolled in school there (so he wouldn't fall behind - as if he really had to worry about that) and was accelerating (as usual ). Crawford was preoccupied with their client, but when he wasn't he was usually in his office reading or writing or whatever it was he always did in there. Schuldich usually slept all day and went out clubbing most of the night so no one saw too much of him. Farfarello was the only one unable to adjust to life without a set mission. He seemed bored, anxious, and almost in a daze.

He just spent most of his time playing with his knives and looking for victims. He wasn't really satisfied though. Even though when he was a member of Esset he was controlled much more then he liked, at least his life had a purpose, a routine, a set goal. Now, all Schwartz had was whatever jobs that Crawford could scrounge up for them (luckily there where plenty of rich idiots out there that needed the kind of "service" that Schwartz could offer).

Even the occasional lamb here and there was not enough to satisfy his lust for blood. There was no more hunting Weiss, no more hitting mass targets, he was basically on his own when it came to finding "toys" to play with. He was beginning to get depressed.

Slowly he continued to polish his knives until they shined. They were all clean, every single one of them. They were free of his sins and that's how they wanted it. He liked to wash his sins away so that he could walk with a clear conscious. In his bright yellow eyes, he was the victim. He was the one who had been wronged, betrayed, shunned by his lord. He could never let that go, never, for that is all he lived for - to extract revenge on God. To punish him for his lies. That was Farfarello's only purpose, especially now. That was what gave him a will to live. He clung to that thought, that singular obsession, because that was all he had.

"What shall we do tonight?" Farfarello asked himself as he put the last shimmering knife back in its cases. He stopped short, however, enjoying the cool feeling of the blade against his pale skin. It felt nice, almost soothing. He made a quick slice across his arm and shivered with delight as the cold steel pierced his fragile body. He savored the delicious pleasure he received from self mutilation. Although he felt no pain his body still responded by releasing the natural endorphins that would act the numb it in any normal even. However, in Farfarello's case, there was no pain, only the naturally enduing drug that gave him a superficial sort of "high." Much as Schuldich was elated by raping the mind's of his victims, Farfarello was equally aroused by his bodies blizzard marry-go-round of action and reaction.

There was a scientific explanation for the pleasure, but how did one account for the very act of not feeling pain? Perhaps the reason lay not in the physical, but in the metaphysical. Perhaps the reason lay in the fact that both Farfarello's mind and soul were contorted by an unholy poison as a result of his misguided hatred for perhaps the only _being_ that still loved him. But how could he know, in his current state of total mental chaos? How could someone who's very existence was fueled by hatred know what it was to love?

And yet this same man was once a boy who loved and laughed and gave all his heart and soul into living for the pure sake of it. One event changed all of that though. As his fragile world reeled out of control Jei was lost forever. He was dead, buried beneath mounds of mind altering lies. But could he be resurrected? Could Farfarello one day find that inner peace that he had once had in his childhood?

That's why he cut himself again and again and again, each time reopening a new wound, each time bringing back an old scar, each time a tear fell from the corner of his eye not because of pain, but because of the utter confusion that tortured his entire being; that ever lingering menagerie of self doubt.

"Why can I have no peace? Why must you taunt me so? Why can I not free myself from my own self inflicted misery?" the boy cried allowed as the blood and tears hit the carpet, mingling in it fibers. Sin and penance, lust and sorrow, together in the mind of a demon and angel.

"Are you alright?" Came the almost hesitant request from Nagi who was standing at the top of the stairs, leaning over the banister. He knew that it was not very smart to get too close to Farfarello when he was like this, for even though his own powers were great, he dare not tempt fate and come too close for fear of pain of death.

Farfarello said nothing as he let his blade slide across the flesh of his cheek one last time, marring his milky white skin with crimson penance. He simply put down his knife and picked up another, one that was clean, and slowly rose to his feat. "I'm going out," was all he said as he shuffled towards the door and was gone.

Nagi was left alone at the top of the stairs to contemplate the sanity of their teammate (which had already decided was highly unstable) and finish his homework without interruption from screaming Irishmen. And the carpet was left to soak up the blood and tears that had come to rest upon it and mingle in the very soul of its fibers, for it was the only testament that showed that Jei was still there, buried deep within the chest of Farfarello.

NOTES: Okay, so what do you think? I know it was kinda long, but I like to write. And I know that its a lot of inner reflection right now, but there will be more dialogue in the next chapter, I promise. Please continue to read and review and thanks to all of you that have. Its really helpful


	3. Memories From Puddles

Okies, so here's the next chapter. I'd really appreciate it if someone would please review. I know I keep obsession over this but it's important to me. I like to get criticized, it gives me inspiration

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Weiss Kreuz or any of it characters (but I'm going to write about them just like everyone else ).

Sunlight dancing,

Moonlight shines,

Eyes burn bright,

For you are mine;

Breezes come,

The Rain will pass,

Open your heart,

For my love will last;

Deadly scream,

Cried in the night,

Hopeless fear,

As I search for the light...

"I'm going out," called Tawny as she grabbed her jacket, jumping the last three stairs. She quickly slipped it on over her tank top and grabbed her umbrella before making a dash for the front door. She had to get out of the house; she was suffocating. She couldn't stand to just sit alone in her room and let the memories wash over her again and again, drenching her heart in guilt, drowning her soul in an unexplainable sorrow.

She didn't wait to hear her mother's answer as she stepped outside into the cool night air. It was still raining, but only lightly. There was a fain breeze forcing the mist up under her umbrella, into her face. But she didn't mind. She really didn't notice. She was cold, but she didn't really care. How could she care about something so silly as being cold when Elizabeth was in a fresh grave, beneath freshly dug soil, all alone in her eternal sleep.

"I don't deserve to be warm;" said Tawny as she began to walk mindlessly towards the cemetery, "not while Elizabeth is cold and alone and dead." She vaguely realized that it wasn't such a good idea. The cemetery wasn't the best place for a 16 year old girl to be gallivanting off to on a cold, rainy night, but then again it wasn't very smart to let your best friend take a short cut through the trailer park at 12 in the morning.

"I wonder what it felt like - being tortured. I wonder how it felt to see freedom within reach and to be denied it so suddenly. I wonder if she was afraid, or if she stood her ground and fought." Tawny tried to fight it, but couldn't help it and smiled to herself. Elizabeth would have been the one to stand and fight. She always was, no matter what the odds. She wasn't scared of anything that Tawny could remember.

"Hay, Tawn-Tawn catch!" cried a silly looking tom-girl with a brown pony tail all messed up and half out on one side as she threw the big orange ball at the skinny little redhead with knock-knees and a face full of freckles.

"Huh, Tawn-Tawn?" questioned the new girl as she dogged the ball, letting it roll past her. She had only been there a week. Her family had moved their from Maryland three months ago, right after her mother and father had settled their divorce. Tawny was still having a tough time getting over it and adjusting to the new move, but her mom wanted her to start school soon so she wouldn't get behind.

Now it was her first day and she felt so strange in that fourth grade class full of people she didn't know. She missed her old friends, and her dad, and her old house. It wasn't fair she thought as the bell rang for recess and she shuffled out the door with the rest of her classmates. No one even bothered talking to her. Everyone seemed to be ignoring her, even the teacher. It was too hot there and rainy. She didn't like it. Not one bit because it wasn't home.

"Yah, that's what I'm calling yah from now on," laughed the brown haired mess. She was the first person to talk to Tawny all day. And it would figure that she would have to pick on her name. She just hated it.

"Don't call me that!" She said suddenly stamping her foot.

The Brunet looked slightly confused and made a quick attempt at an apology, "I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. I'll just call you Tawny from now on. Ok? I just wanna be friends, really..."

Tawny suddenly began to cry and sunk to the soft grass, wrapping her arms tightly around her knees and bowing her head. She hated it. She hated everything. It wasn't fair. Nothing worked out for her.

The tom-girl quickly ran over and tapped her on the shoulder, "are you ok? I'm really, really sorry. I mean it! I'm so sorry! Please, don't cry. I didn't mean to make you sad. I promise."

Tawny slowly lifted up her head to see a smiling face that shown with a pair of bright blue eyes full of genuine concern, guised by a smile and smudged with dirt. "It's ok. I'm alright. I'm sorry. I'm just not feeling to good right now."

The smiling face shown brightly as the knock-kneed redhead delivered her apology. "That's great! I mean, not that you're not feeling good, but that you're not mad. I really just wanted to make friends." She paused before hesitantly adding, "hay, you wanna come over my house after school and swim in my pool? It's an in ground. You can use my favorite raft if you want. It's a giant alligator and it's this big!" She continued, spreading her arms as far as they would go to demonstrate the size of her raft.

Tawny wiped the tears off her face. She soon forgot whatever it had been that had made her so sad and quickly accepted the girls offer, "really? I'd love to go swimming. I don't have a pool and it's so hot. "

"Great!" The brunet continued, "oh, and by the way, mine name is Elizabeth - Elizabeth Hollins..."

"Mine's Tawny - Tawny Write. And if you really want to you can call me Tawn-Tawn… I don't really mind. Its not all that bad," Tawny said, taking the hand offered by Elizabeth; now smiling cheerfully, all indication of her misery behind her.

"Well, you wanna play then?" Asked Elizabeth retrieving the ball that she had thrown, "I mean, before recess is over?"

"Sure!" Said Tawny grabbing the ball from Elizabeth and giving a wild giggle as she began to run. "Bet you can't catch me!" she jeered, playfully, sticking out her tong as she mounted the hill.

"Bet ya I can!" Cried Elizabeth taking flight after the redhead thief. And the two girls chased each other all the rest of recess, a moment that's image was forever frozen in the mind of a girl.

For there Elizabeth was forever alive, laughing, and playing. There she would know no pain nor sorrow, and all would be as it should be, at least in the mind of Tawny. For she clung to the dream; and all her other memories, that seemed to last only an instant. This was all that was left of Elizabeth - an instant. This was all Tawny had to cling to. And a single tear ran down the girls cheek as she continued to walk towards the cemetery; the cold night air, blowing hard against her face.

The moon was barely visible as the clouds danced over it, and the stars, flooding the sky with darkness. A lone figure moved through the headstones, eyes burning with tears, heart racing with regret. She finally came to the fresh grave and stoop down beside it, running her hand along the engraving that read ...

Elizabeth Hollins

Age, 16

1987 - 2003

__

Beloved daughter, friend, and all around good person...

She will be greatly be missed.

"She'll be missed," whispered Tawny to herself. She laid a flower on the fresh earth, where several others were. She had picked up a daisy on her way there, from the local flower shop. It would have made Elizabeth mad to know that Tawny was mourning like this. It would have made her mad to know that everyone was morning like this.

"Suck it up people!" she would have said, thought Tawny - that's just how she was.

Tawny remembered suddenly how they had buried her in a plain black dress. She would have had a fit had she known. They had her hair all fixed and down at her shoulders, neatly cut and make-up on her always bear face. It looked so foreign to Tawny, who had always been so used to seeing her friend in jeans and a tee shirt. It just didn't fit. Her hair wasn't a mess and it was down! My gosh! Had Elizabeth been alive and seen it she would have died! And they put on pink lipstick. Of all the colors in the world pink! Elizabeth hated pink!

But only Tawny seemed to notice the violations that had been made against her friend's corpse's. Only she had looked on almost in disgust as everyone else commented how beautiful she was. Even Mary hadn't seemed to care what they had done to her in death. Was Tawny the only one who really understood her? Or did everyone else just not care? Did they just want to use this event as an excuse to turn her into what she had hated most? They had marred an angel during her final accent into heaven - and not a one of them even seemed to apprehend it.

"You looked like a girl," Tawny teased, half crying, half laughing as she crouched down beside her friend's grave. She lightly stroked the flower between her fingers. Elizabeth liked daisies. She used to say they were pretty and cheap, just the way she liked everything from clothes, to shoes, to just about everything she bought.

Tawny was the opposite. She liked to wear pretty dresses and put her hair down. She liked to flirt and buy what was in stile. She was popular and pretty and followed the mold; everything Elizabeth wasn't.

They seemed to balance each other out. Elizabeth was outspoken, to the point, and aggressive. Tawny was more shy, playful, and passive. She avoided controversial subjects and baked down from fights, while Elizabeth liked to argue and got into more fights than Tawny could remember for running her mouth to the wrong person. She didn't always win, but she never really lost, or stood to loss. If she did get beat she'd always fight them again. And if she lost again, she'd keep on fighting. Tawny never agreed with this principle too much, but she knew better than to lecture her friend. She had a mind of her own and a head that was more often then not, harder than brick.

"If only she'd of listened to me that one time. If only I'd have made her listen for once in our lives," Tawny mumbled to herself, standing up and putting the flower back down in the mud. A shiver shot down her spine and she hugged her jacket around herself for warmth. "I'd better go," she said absentmindedly, giving one last look at her friend's grave before picking her umbrella back up and walking way from the final resting place of the one person she loved, hated, and idolized all at once, leaving the rain to fall alone on the drenched earth, washing away the tears that had fallen and replacing them with heaven's sorrow.

****

NOTES: What do you think? I just had to do it for characterization. I wanted to tell a little bit more about Tawny and Elizabeth and how they became friends and whatever before Tawny runs into Farfarello. Besides, I needed to get her out alone at night by herself so she could have the misfortune (or fortune - in my opinion ) of running into everyone's favorite knife wielding Irishmen. Tell me what you think and check back for updates soon...


	4. Well Daisies

Hello again !!! It's me...

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Weiss Kreuz or any of its characters (I'm just another fan fic loving junky who lacks the initiative to make up my own characters and write my own novel). I'd much rather write about characters that people already know and love (I personally love 'em all - especially my poor 'ittle Farfie).

Quick as silver,

Dark as night,

Burning desire,

Thoughtless fright,

Hopeless escape,

Submissive cry,

Bleeding heart,

A wish to die...

It was raining harder now and it was getting difficult to see. Luckily, Elizabeth's house was only a few more blocks away. "Be home soon," she thought to herself. She had now regretted that in her pity-trip she had neglected to wear a heavier jacket. The rain stung her face and the umbrella had stopped doing any good. "Of all the days to wear a white tank top," she grumbled to herself, making a mental note not to let sadness interfere with rationality. "Last thing I need to do is ketch a cold. Elizabeth would kill me if she new I got sick because I had to go see her in the pouring down rain," Tawny continued, stopping under an awning that overhung a local corner store.

"I'll wait here for a minute utile the rain lets up," she thought to herself. One good thing about this place was that when it rained like this, it never rained very long. The store was closed anyways so they wouldn't mind her standing under it. In fact, everything was closed. No one was out. How late was it exactly?

"At least my house is just five blocks up," she murmured to herself, hugging her jacket around herself even tighter and trying to wring out her rain drenched hair. Suddenly there was a flash of lightning followed by a loud cry of thunder that caused her to jump.

"Figures," she moaned, "life sucks... it just sucks!" She was scared of storms. She always had been since she was little. She would always run and hide as soon as the thunder hit. And that was her first instinct. But there was no where to go. She realized she had two options: making a mad dash for home or staying there and having a panic attack. Her mind said the first, but her body seemed gung-ho on the latter.

Farfarello was enjoying the rain. He walked with his head pointed up and let the rain wash the blood off his face and arms. It felt cool and relaxing.

He hadn't intended to go anywhere in particular when he ventured out. He just decided to walk. This wasn't abnormal behavior for him though; he often did what seemed to many random things. He never planed to kill all those people he had killed recently, he just saw them and the urge overcame him. He had wanted to kill _something_, but not them necessarily. They where just the _not so fortunate people _that had been in the _wrong place at the wrong time _when Farfarello had decided that _they would do_.

It was one of those nights again. He was bored, sulking, depressed, and cutting himself wasn't producing its usual satisfaction. It seemed to have the opposite effect this evening. It had brought on something strange, something that hadn't happened in a long time; he had felt sorrow. He had felt sadness, not out of boredom, but because we felt lost in his own mind.

He couldn't really explain the feeling accept to say that he wasn't himself when it happened. He somehow became someone else. He reverted back, ever so slightly, to Jei; the boy he used to be. Sometimes Jei would surface when he went to kill someone and he wouldn't be able to go through with it. Other times Jei would wake up when he was abusing himself, like he had been then, and reawaken that rather inconvenient sensation called pain, deep within the pit of Farfarello's heart.

"You were the first person I killed, Jei, and yet you are the only one who continues to haunt me..." the Berserker observed. He had long contemplated what was meant by the sudden instances of Jei's resurfacing. What was Jei now? A ghost? A phantom? That nuisance of an emotion that Farfarello had long tucked away called a conscience? He often wondered if Jei was still a part of him or if he had long ago shuffled off his mortal coil and re-frequented his mind at certain times only to annoy the Irishman. Or was Jei really Farfarello, just in a state of unconscious slumber? Maybe he was still there, but simply lost the will to live and went to sleep, allowing Farfarello to take over for him.

"What does it matter either way? I am here, and I am alive, and I am me. I am not Jei, for Jei is no longer a part of my mentality. I gave up Jei's innocence long ago. He is no longer an element of this body," whispered Farfarello to himself. He wanted to believe that so much and yet there was always a lingering doubt. He really didn't know who he was any more, and he hadn't really known for a very long time. He slipped in and out of moods and phases, regressing and progressing back and fourths between child and demon. In his own mind all he did what was rational and fair. It was the rest of the world that was wrong, and yet, there was always a feeling of emptiness in his being as if he was never truly happy. He hadn't been _truly_ happy for as long as he could remember.

His last moments of happiness where as a child, with his family; mother, father, and little sister, and Sister Ruth all together. He had been content then and he had believed in something. But now that moment was gone, no more then a vision, and all he really had left was a dim outline of the present, which often meant nothing to him.

The thunder rumbled yet again and Tawny sunk to the ground in terror as another crack of lightning wiped through the sky, illuminating everything for an instant in a bright, foreboding light. "I hate it, I hate it, I hate it!" She cried to herself as she tucked her head between her knees and rocked back and fourths to calm herself.

__

"What's wrong Tawn-Tawn?" Questioned a certain tom-girl as her red haired companion took cover at the first crack of lightning.

"Nothing, I'm ok..." Tawny whispered, hiding behind Elizabeth, grasping her shoulders like a shield. "I just don't like storms, that's all."

Elizabeth's face light up and a smirk crossed her face as she began to tease, "Awww, what's the matter? Tawn-Tawn can take a little rain?"

Tawny immediately became infuriated, "No, its just, its just..." she was cut off, before she could fabricate a come-back, by yet another loud crack of lightning. She hit the ground almost instantly, covering her head with her hands.

Elizabeth, realizing how afraid Tawny was, came over and sat down beside her, "Hay, if you're that scared why don't we go home? It's ok, really. I don't care." They had been on their way to a party at Mary's when the storm hit. At first it was just rain, then it started to storm. It was the first time Elizabeth and Tawny had ever been caught outside in a storm together and Tawny wasn't taking it well. Elizabeth knew that Tawny had a fear of storms but they were always inside when the storms hit, so Elizabeth had never seen Tawny act this bad.

"Yah, but you've been wanting to go to this party since last month. Remember, Ryan was gonna be there?" Said Tawny as she sat up beside Elizabeth and looked up at the sky. "I'll just go home by myself; you go and enjoy the party."

Elizabeth eyed her friend carefully before replying, "no way! I'm not leaving you!" And with that Elizabeth grabbed hold of Tawny's arm and began to drag her home.

"That was Elizabeth for yah," mumbled Tawny to herself, "always looking out for everyone else. _"I'm not leaving you!" _The words played over and over again in Tawny's mind as she lost herself in the sound of Elizabeth's voice. "You lied!" She half shouted as the tears began to pour down her face once again. "You lied to me Elizabeth! You said you'd never leave me," the crouching figure raged to the sky. But the wind and rain gave no replay accept for their ghostly murmur that seemed to hang over the whole world.

And then Tawny saw him, the tall figure standing across the street. A single yellow eye burned with intention and his poised knife was all Tawny needed to see before her legs became mobile and she prepared to take flight. __

Note: Well, what do you think? Like how its turning out? Am I taking too long to get to some action? Is it boring? I'd like some honest feedback. Be as nasty as necessary. Flames help my muse, they make her want to kill things (that's the state of mind I seem to need to be in to write this fic). But seriously, I need some honest criticism.


	5. The Sent of Baked Apples

Dumplings Katie, Dumplings :P

DISCLAIMER: (ignore above comment, rather weird, inside joke) I don't own Weiss Kreuz. Nope. I don't even own the anime of it. I had to borrow it from my friend Adrienne (thank's Adrienne ). Anyways, I'm sure you guys are all thinking; we want more Farfie! This is a Farfie fic, not a Tawny fic. Well fear not for I have finally finished my excursion in delving into Tawny's character (lots and lots of characterization) and am ready to have Tawny and Farfie meet for the first time (I probably should have said all of this at the end of last chapter though, shouldn't I have?)

Twisted passion,

Wicked pain,

Lustful death,

You seek in vain;

Loving hand,

Soft embrace,

Milky skin,

Love gives chase.

Farfarello had wandered into a cemetery before he realized it, having been lost so deeply in his own thoughts. It was getting darker and the sky was completely black. The moon and stars had all been shrouded over in a thin covering of clouds and the soft rain looked as though it was going to turn into a thunderstorm before the hour was through. The soft drops hitting the ground hundreds at a time, turning the earth to mud.

He walked absentmindedly in between the stones, once beings - living, breathing people - now little more then dust beneath six feet of dirt. "Back to the dust from where hence thou came..." he mumbled to himself. The bitter smile that followed twisted and retched jagged against his face. Even now those verses, those songs, those _lies _where still with him. He could not cast off those once comforting phrases, which had since become the adversary of his ambition.

There was a still sort of calm in the night air that even he was forced to notice. It was a kind of melancholy echo; not quite hostile, not quite still, that seemed to race through the wind as it blew clouds, dust, and leaves about the sky. All things flew against the dark canvas, layered in colorless shapes of gray and white.

He almost wished he were one of those leaves, free to fly away, without care or feeling. There was no sorrow in the mind and heart of a leave for it had neither. Oh, how he longed for sweet nothingness so often. How he wanted so much to bid this world a final adieu. And yet, there was a constant force that drove him from suicide at his every attempt. There was a will that still made him fight when he had the chance to die. There was still a very real will to live, existing at the same time with that very real wish to die.

"Jei... Jei, come in!" Came the sweet voice of a rather plump woman that stood at the threshold of a door to a very small, but cozy cottage. The sun played on her warm face and her eyes shown with a sort of heavenly beauty. The lines of her face were deeply creased with age and her brow was worn with worry, though one would never notice it passed her gentle smile that gave her a sort of youthful glow. Her apron was soiled with this-morning's eggs and freshly stained with lunch's jam - all signs of that sacred love that can only be shared between mother and child. Smells of baked apple emanated from the door and the two children who had been picking flowers all afternoon eagerly ran to their mother's beckon.

"Look what I made you mamma!" Smiled a brown haired girl all freckled with deep-set dimples in a dirty pink dress that came breathless to the door. She had made a wreath and decorated it with flowers from the meadow just beyond the well by their cottage. "See mamma, it's got pink and yellow, and little white flowers all in it! It matches your dress," she continued to explain; as her mother beamed down at her, face all love.

"It's very beautiful," said the women, taking the wreath from her daughter and preparing to place it on her head.

"No, let me!" cried the girl. So the mother stopped and handed the flowers back to the child as she stooped down and received her gift with such grace that one would think she were being crowned queen.

"You look beautiful mother," whispered the second of the two children, a boy with bright yellow eyes and soft white hair. His eyes looked upon his mother with both wonder and admiration. She was to him the world; all save Sister Ruth, who was the very image of the Madonna to him. But his mother was a close second to the mother of Christ and he often wondered if the virgin mother of the Son of God was his very own. He admired the angle before him with breathless worship as the sun caused her very being to glow against the emerald hills that went behind her as far as the eye could see, and he thought it must be Eden over those hills. His love for her went beyond that of a son and transpired into the regions of that between man and God. She was the epitome of goodness, the meaning of love, the very incarnation of trust, loyalty, and all other things good and right with the world. And to him she could do not wrong.

"Jei helped me make it mamma. He wreathed it for me. I only picked the flowers," giggled the girl, all smiles and dimples as she grabbed her mother's hand and began to tug at it with affection.

"Well, you children have certainly been busy, haven't you? Making me such lovely gifts. You both deserve an extra big slice of apple pie for being so good. So go wash up and sit at the table," came the sweet coo of their mother, as she bent and gave both her children a warm embrace, then lead them into the cottage, one on each side, holding her toil-worn hands.

A shot of thunder screamed in the night and Farfarello was torn away from his sleepy little cottage, nestled in the hills of Ireland, with the smells of apple pie and the soft embrace of his mother, to a cemetery in Miami on a rainy night, and an approaching storm. He had been jerked out of his sweet memory back to the world he hated so. Back to his despair, his aching, his fear. The parting was a bitter break, and the wound cut just as deep into the boy's flesh as it had that day. He could not bare the face of those angels, all good and righteous, frozen forever in his mind, drowned in a pile of their own blood.

Every time he managed an escape from the cruel world, back to his past full of warm kisses and hugs, the spell would be broken and he would again see before him a river of blood and with the confines of that shallow creek would lay all that he loved. Their limbs severed, throats slit, mouths twisted - frozen - in icy gasps of terror. The rose was still in his dear sister's cheek and she still clutched, in blood soaked hands, the patchwork quilt given to them that evening by Sister Ruth. On it was the image of those two angels between the pillars. Their wings outstretched again the blue backdrop and their faces blank and without a feature. They too shared the blood of those he loved as the quilt was also soaked in the mess of the essence that had once so steadily flowed through those heavenly cherubs.

"And will you deny me even my thoughts of a happier?" He whispered through clenched teeth, head up to the sky as the tears were washed away and his heart returned to stone. As he turned around and prepared to sulk home through the rain until he caught sight of a lone figure exiting through the big iron gates of the cemetery grounds, into the empty streets.

The wicked smile that had become so customary on his face soon returned as the scent of apple pie and flower wreaths withered away and were replaced with thorns of hatred and thoughts of torture. Jei would not rein in his mind for long, not when there were lambs that needed tending to.

Tawny ran as fast as she could away from the man, her heart racing as thoughts of terror danced through her mind, but was soon overcome and tackled to the ground. She screamed out in pain as he grabbed hold of her hair and gave it a hard yank, as he straddled her back, effectively pinning her to the ground.

"That wasn't much fun," grinned Farfarello against Tawny's ear. "I was hoping for at least a little fight," the madman chuckled to himself as he pulled Tawny's hair yet again, eliciting another cry of pain and slamming her skull hard against the pavement.

"Let me go, please, let me go," pleaded Tawny as she vainly tried to throw her attacker off. The blood began to trickle down her forehead and it was all she could do to keep her wits about her.

There was no reply from Farfarello; he pressed his knife to her cheek. He let the cold metal slide across her face and smiled widely when a thin string of blood began to form, "I can feel your heart beating. It's racing so fast. I can feel it through your back, against my chest. It's so, so very nice," Farfarello continued to tease as he brought the knife to his mouth and licked off the thin streak of her brood. The tangy flavor lingered on his tongue as a delicious shiver of excitement ran through his entire being. _This one, yes, she is very interesting indeed_, he thought to himself as he pressed her face against the cement, scrapping her nose and scalp raw.

"Please, don't hurt me..." cried Tawny as the tears began to come. She didn't want to die. Not like this. Not like Elizabeth. - _Die like Elizabeth... _- She said almost under her breath. It struck her like an arrow. Was this maniac the same man who killed Elizabeth? Had this been what it was like for Elizabeth in the last moments of her life, all alone in the hands of this psychopath. Tawny couldn't bare this thought. She couldn't bare her own fear, let alone the sad fact that her best friend, in the last desperate moments of her life, had felt the same way. "_Had she wondered about me?" _Tawny whispered between choked tears. She couldn't help but question. What she did know was Elizabeth had put up a fight. She had ran and had been within reach of safety when he had overtaken her and eventually killed by the final fatal blow.

"She fought and so will I!" She vowed in her own mind. She refused to let that one eyed freak to slit her throat without even a struggle. Her eyes blurred with tears and her face was a bloody mess against the pavement, but none of that mattered when the image of Elizabeth, body stained in blood, hand clear cut off the bone. That was her power, her inspiration, her driving force and she refused to let that fire be quelled. __

"You Bastard!" Tawny screamed and began to thrash around. She struggled and squirmed, managing to free one hand before it was quickly pulled back into the hands of the attacker. She managed to lift her head only barely and before she knew it, it was against the pavement yet again, accept this time she couldn't see anything but pitch black and a blur of swirling colors before she completely drowned in the sea of darkness and was lost forever in the waves of onyx.

VOCABULARY:

Adieu - French for goodbye (its not really that important, but its nice to know)

Madonna - Another name for Mary (along with Maria and a couple others I may use for inconsistency).

NOTES: What yah think? I'd really appreciate some feedback. My muse it on a sugar high looking over at the drunken sprite, scribbling down the next chapter diligently yep, this ain't gonna be good for Tawny. I can tell motioning to the sadistic smile lacing Totskumi's (the muse's name) face

P.S. I wanted to include the childhood memory of Farfie so I could give him some humanity before I had him beat Tawny's head against the sidewalk (and no, Tawny isn't dead - yet - - Bwha-ha-ha-ha-ha!!!). Anyways, thanks for all your patience and support and whatnot. And I promise to update the next chapter by next week (I know I've got everyone wondering how Tawny's going to get out of this one).


	6. Cat and Mouse

Thank you so, so very much for spelling checking Lesa!!! I can't thank you enough (because I can't spell worth crap ) So I think everyone should give Lesa a big round of applause for her help.

****

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Weiss Kreuz. How many more times do I have to write this?

- side note: thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far. I really appreciate it more than you'll ever know. Well, please continue to review and I hope you enjoy the next chapter...

Excerpt from "Twisted Daydream" (yes, I'm using some of my real poems now, no more off the top of my head stuff - I'm so proud, this poem was actually published)...

Heaven and Hell mingle against the backdrop of a canvas,

Forever suspended together in shades of black and white,

Allied in the mind of a single heart now passed,

Countless yearnings have yet to bloom from the darkness of night;

The farce which is life has yet to fade,

As a single tear falls into the sea of agony littered in remorse,

Swept away in an ocean of gray,

Becoming part and parcel of a marine of headless corpses;

To drift forever by itself,

Of all hope and joy it is deprived,

Made to die a lonely death,

A thousand miles off the shore of time...

The room was dark and musky and her body ached all over. Everything was a blur, as images danced back and forth; swaying to and fro as if teetering in the waves. Her head was foggy, making it very hard for her to focus on anything. _What had happened?_

"So," came a hushed voice, rather gruff and portraying a hint of amusement, "you've finally awakened?"

That's what happened! It all came rushing back to Tawny as she suddenly became panicky and tried to sit up only to find her arms where tied behind her back and her legs were bound together. This provided no comfort to her as she began to squirm and fuss, only making her attacker more amused; as he began to laugh softly. He hopped down from the boxes he was sitting on and began to walk towards her.

"What do you plan on doing with me?" Tawny asked hesitantly, giving up on struggling. Did she even want to know the answer? More than likely no, but maybe she could reason with him. _Yeah, that's a great idea. Reason with the fruitcake. That should work. Hey mister nutcase, I really have to be getting home now so if you'd be so kind as to ... _like that would work_._

It appeared that they were in an old warehouse of some sort, she observed as her vision began to straighten out and her head stopped seeing everything all wavy-like. It was really dark so she couldn't make out much, except for the dim outline of her attacker and a few things here and there that happened to be under the splotches of moonlight, that shown through the holes in the roof. It seemed like the rain had stopped, because she couldn't hear anything (it would figure, it wouldn't rain when she dies, heaven wouldn't mourn for her). But what did any of it matter now? She was pretty sure she was going to die in the next few minutes or when he got through with her she was going to wish she was dead.

"Are you scared?" Asked the figure that now loomed overtop of her. His single yellow eye glistened with twisted amusement and something else that Tawny didn't even want to try and figure out. Or did she? What was that look behind his eye. Was it pain, lust, sadness?

She didn't want to answer his question. She didn't want to think about what was happening. All she wanted to do was go home and take a shower, brush her teeth, and go to bed. She didn't want to be here, alone (with the exception of a would-be serial killer).

"I said," growled the figure, as he stooped down beside her, "are you scared?" It was more a demand than a question this time. She realized he was upset that she had ignored his first inquiry. What did he expect? Her to be polite to him, _Oh, yes, I'm so, so, very scared Mr. Insane Man. _Yeah, sure. More like, _go to hell you bastard!_

"I'll ask one more time," he was now an inch away from her face, "are you scared?"

She couldn't help it. She just couldn't. He asked for it. He really did. So she spit right in his face, which, needless to say, didn't go over all too well. But what did it matter? If this was the jerk that killed Elizabeth, at least she dealt him a blow. _And who knows_, she thought, _maybe he'll just kill me now because I made him mad. I'd rather just die now, quickly and painlessly, than be tortured._

Unfortunately, her kidnapper didn't seem all that phased by her act of insolence. In fact he just stared at her a moment, without wiping the spit off. Then he began to laugh. Not a normal laugh, but that demented sort of laugh that sends chills up and down your spine. And that's exactly what Tawny did, shutter down to the very core of her being.

She wasn't dealing with someone she could understand, or reason with, or in any way escape. She had known this for a while, but didn't want to accept it. She had simply been bitter, scared, in shock, but now it all hit her. He wasn't going to just kill her. He was going to break her in two. And she started to cry, inwardly, and cursed herself for being such an idiot. And for not telling her mother she loved her. And not petting her cat, Sugar, before she left. And because of her own irrationality, falling prey to the night the same way Elizabeth had...

Farfarello stood up. The girl had ceased to move and was bleeding rather profusely from the head. She hadn't been much fun at all. She hardly put up a fight. He was beginning to regret he had even bothered with her. But he was reassured that she wasn't a total loss when she let out a faint moan of pain. So, she wasn't dead yet. That was good.

"Where is God now? Shall he save you?" Farfarello mused to himself as he picked her and hefted her limp body over his shoulder. "No, he does not care about you. He never has. That's why he never saves you. That's why so many die..." his voice trailed off into the darkness as he began to walk away from the shine of street lights and down a dark, lonely alley.

The rain had stopped by the time he had reached his destination, an old, abandoned warehouse three miles south of the nearest home. He then proceeded to tie up the girl, not wanting his prize to escape after all. That wouldn't have been much fun for him. So after he had tightly bound her and laid her next to some crates, he proceeded to plan what he would do with her when she woke.

She wasn't unattractive, but that didn't matter much either way to Farfarello. He had killed plenty of attractive people. What they looked like had nothing to do with why Farfarello chose them. He simply looked for alone figures out in the cold. The _lost lambs_, or so to speak, that had wandered away from their flock and their gentle bleating was now beckoning to the wolves. Yes, that's what Farfarello looked for in his prey. An innocence that's death would make God cry. That's what Farfarello desired most and what he got out of the kill.

"It's a shame that you had to stray from your flock, child, than you wouldn't be in this mess," cued Farfarello to the girl as he sharpened one of his favorite knives. He could cut her to pieces - an arm, a leg, than the throat - and let the blood seep out slowly. Yes, that would be fun. But would it be suiting? After all, she hadn't had much of a chance to get away. Even Farfarello knew he hadn't really given her a sporting chance.

That's what he would do, a game of cat and mouse. He would let her go - if she could escape his iron clutches, that is. When she awoke, he would untie her and let her try and escape. And if she managed to get out of the warehouse, then she deserved to live. If she couldn't, well, let's just say she would end up like the rest.

She let out a faint cry, bringing Farfarello's attention to her helpless figure. She looked like an angel -Farfarello hated angels; the winged messengers of the king of liars. That's what they were. But still - Farfarello couldn't help but feel a slight tugging at his heart. Something about the way those red tresses fell across her face, or maybe it was the way those emerald eyes had sparkled up at him with hate. Yes, or maybe it was the way her cheeks held such a rosy tint, and those freckles dotted across her nose - she reminded him of his sister.

He watched her for a long moment, regarding her with both detest and intrigue and let out a long, heavy sigh as he spoke to the air, "you wish to tempt he into submission with your charms - do you not? But, unfortunately for you, I know far too well the schemes of your king. I know too well how angels can deceive the eyes and turn to be demons in disguise once you have grown to love them," he spit into the ground, voice laced with venom. "Never again will I fall for the charms of would-be angels, for they lie just as their master. Their lies burn forever in the heart..." A flood of memories raced back at him as he brought his knees up to his chin. There was again the image of the three angels, drowned in a sea of their own blood, and the awful taunting pain crept back into the deepest regions of Farfarello's soul.

"Leave me alone!" The Irishman screamed aloud. He felt again the slow prangs of what was a remnant of Jei, returning to deride him. But no, Jei would not have this one. Jei would not let this one escape. She was far too tempting, far too satisfying. If he could kill this ruined angel then he could perhaps win the internal conflict with Jei. Yes, if Jei could not tempt him into sorrow over this creature, perhaps he could finally regain his hold on himself once again.

And as he made up his mind to test himself the girl stirred, eyes fluttering open. Lovely green butterflies... Farfarello thought of how nice it would be to posses those eyes, for them to stare up at him at his every beckon, and so he also resolved to cut them out of their sockets and place them on his bed posts.

"You're nuts!" Tawny shouted, half enraged, half petrified.

"You've just come to terms with that?" questioned Farfarello, drawing out his knife. Tawny shuttered and recoiled as he came once again so close to her face and put the knife to her throat. Then he slowly slid it away, and cut the rope that he had bound her arms with in a fluid motion. "You have until I count to ten to run. The only way out is down there," he said, pointing left, into the darkness that Tawny squinted to see into and still found nothing. "If you can make it out of here then I'll let you go," he paused, his mouth twisted in a sinister grin, "however, if you shall fail, your lovely little head will be my new lampshade..."

What?! Lampshade! Nazi! Goof! What the hell was wrong with him? You don't do that to people, Tawny screamed in her own mind. But then she took a deep breath and stared up at her captor. _He's kind of cute - shut up! - but he is - you're an idiot!_ Well, cute or not, he was still going to make her head into a lampshade if she didn't think up something. But what chance did she have? Ten seconds, that's all? She didn't even know where the door was. And besides, he was a lot faster than she was (he overtook her in seconds at the cemetery). Oh, yeah, she was still as good as dead...

"Did you kill a girl by the trailer park last week?" She suddenly blurted out, without meaning to. _God, your so stupid Tawn! Get the hell up and untie your legs! He's going to start counting any minute and you don't even have the freaking' rope off your legs! How are you supposed to run?_

But to her surprise, the man smiled at her question. He said nothing for a moment, only stared - he wasn't the sociable type Tawny took it. But after a moment he slowly turned and let out a deep, long shriek before he began, in almost a sing song fashion, "and so the lambs stray from their flock and fall right into the mouth of the wolf. Yes, I did. I cut off her hand and let her bleed to death," he responded with a level of calm that was more unnerving than the look in hisdevil-may-care yellow eye. __

It was that same calm that sent Tawny over the edge. It was as if the whole world stopped. Everything was gone - all the boxes, crates, the floor, everything - all gone. All that was left was her and him. And he _was_ the one who killed Elizabeth. And he had the nerve to nonchalantly confess to it. Not a hint of regret was in his voice. Not an ounce of sorrow shown through his calm exterior. His twisted smile didn't crack an inch. And that dancing flame of an eye betrayed, if anything, amusement. Amusement! He had enjoyed killing Elizabeth, and he was going to enjoy killing her.

"You...you devil! You horrible, horrible monster!" shouted Tawny struggling to get the rope off her feet, "How could you... how can you... just kill someone and talk about it so calmly? Don't you know there were people who loved her? Do you realize that she had friends and family? They miss her! I miss her! I miss her so much..." Tawny cried open tears as she stood on her feet, heart pounding, and convictions set. She didn't care if she died anymore. She didn't care if he tortured, raped, or tore her a part limb from limb. It didn't matter anymore. All that mattered now was that he paid for what he did! She knew she couldn't kill him, heck, she'd be lucky if she could even land a punch, but she wasn't going to go down without a fight. She wasn't going to take those 10 seconds that wouldn't make a difference anyways.

And so with her heart settled and her mind set, she lunged at her kidnapper, who was just rising to his feet and tackled him to the ground.

He liked the fire in her voice, the passion in her threats, and the foreboding dare in her tears. They all sent a wave of emotion up Farfarello's spine. Her burning eyes bore holes into his skin and her eyes did not see him as she screamed her sermon. It was seldom that words ever bore this much heart, it was rare that eyes ever held that much hatred, and it was even more infrequent that lips were so inviting.

Her anger had awoken something deep within Farfarello's heart. He didn't hear so much what she was saying, but instead, he absorbed the essence of her soul that seeped into the room as she screamed. And his pulse quickened as the words became faster and faster, and her eyes dug deeper and deeper into his core.

Yes, this is the kind of reaction he lusted for. This is why he killed. He found a sort of high in the cries of his victim's loved one's; an almost romantic attachment to their hatred. To him, that was his life's goal - to hurt everyone and everything near and dear to God in order to hurt _him_. He did not fear their convictions, nor their vengeance; he relished in it.

And as she spoke she rose to her feet and thrashed about wildly, her pain, her sorrow, filled the room. And as Farfarello stood as well, half dazed, half stirred with passion, she charged at him and pushed him to the ground.

And how sweet it was as she grabbed his knife from his hand and stabbed him in the shoulder, then drew back, as if in shock; knife falling to the ground, face paling as the tears once again choked out of her throat in horse gasps.

Quickly she got away from him, tearing herself off of his body. And slowly, with a look of dread that made it all the more sweeter; she backed into the wall that was behind her and slowly sunk to the floor in a wallow of sobs. Her whole being shook with regret, anger, helpless confusion, and she screamed out for forgiveness from _Elizabeth? The youth he had slaughtered? Her dearest friend?_ And contented herself to remain a quivering mass of hysteria against the wall.

Note: Yay, well, I kind of sort of didn't keep to that "update every week" thing, but hey, at least this chapter is pretty long

Oh, Lesa, yes, Tawny's cat is named after Sugar, your kitty, and will appear again later. Also, side note - she calls Farfie a Nazi for saying he's going to make her head into a lampshade because Nazi's were famous for using real skin of dead people to make lampshades - amoung other bizz and twisted things that I don't really care to talk about right now (enough with the history lessons for today).

So, please give me some feedback. I love to hear from you. E-mail me! (My new e-mail address is hotarifichotmail.com) I really appreciate criticism, even flames. Anyways, look for the next chapter sometime soon. I'm on a roll! Woohoo! __


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